Rise of a Merchant Prince

He was still practicing his pitch when the lightening sky finally took his attention from the now merely glowing embers of the fire and he shook himself out of his half-daze, half-dreaming, and he realized that he had not truly slept all night. But he was too filled with excitement and too ready to rush forward into his new life and he figured Duncan wouldn’t object to the extra rest. He rose, and found his knees stiff from sitting in the damp, cool night air without moving for hours. His hair was damp, and dew shone upon his cloak as he shook it out.

‘Duncan!’ he yelled, rousing his cousin. ‘We’ve got wine to sell!’

The wagons clattered over the cobbles of Krondor’s streets. Roo indicated Duncan should pull up behind him, over to one side, allowing some room for traffic to pass on the narrow side street. He had picked out his first stop, a modest inn named the Happy Jumper near the edge of the Merchants’ Quarter. The sign was of a pair of children turning a rope for a third who was suspended in midair over it.

Roo pushed open the door and found a quiet common room, with a large man behind the bar cleaning glasses. ‘Sir?’ the barman asked.

‘Are you the proprietor?’ asked Roo.

‘Alistair Rivers at your disposal. How may I be of service?’ He was a portly man, but under the fat Roo detected strength – most innkeepers had to have some means of enforcing order. His manner was polite, but distant, until he knew the nature of Roo’s business.

‘Rupert Avery,’ said Roo, sticking out his hand. ‘Wine merchant in from Ravensburg.’

The man shook his hand in a perfunctory manner and said, ‘You need rooms?’

‘No, I have wine to sell.’

The man’s expression showed a decided lack of enthusiasm. ‘I have all the wine I need, thank you.’

Roo said, ‘But of what quality and character?’

The man looked down his nose at Roo and said, ‘Make your pitch.’

‘I was born in Ravensburg, sir,’ began Roo. And then he launched into a brief comparison of the bounties of that small town’s wine craft and what was commonly drunk in Krondor’s more modest establishments.

At the end of his pitch he said, ‘The service to Krondor has either been bulk wine for the common man or impossibly priced wine for the nobles, but nothing for the merchant catering to a quality clientele, until now. I can provide wine of superior quality at bulk prices, because I don’t transport the bottles!’

The man was silent a minute. ‘You have a sample?’ he asked at last.

‘Outside,’ said Roo and he hurried out to fetch down a sample cask he had filled before leaving Ravensburg. Returning inside he found a pair of glasses on the bar. He pulled the cork, and as he filled the two glasses with a taste, he said, ‘It’s a bit shocked, having rolled in this very morning off the road, but give it a week or two to rest before you serve it, and you’ll have more business than any other inn in the area.’

The man looked unconvinced, but he tasted. He rolled the wine around his palate, then spit it into a bucket, while Roo did the same. Alistair was quiet again, then said, ‘It’s not bad. A little jumbled, as you said from the road, but there’s some structure there and abundant fruit. Most of my customers won’t know it from the usual plonk, but I do have a few businessmen who frequent my establishment who might find this diverting. I might be interested in a half-dozen barrels. What is your price?’

Roo paused, and quoted a price he knew to be three times what he would accept, and only 15 percent below what the finest noble wines from Ravensburg would fetch. Alistair blinked, then said, ‘Why not burn my inn to the ground and have done with it? You’ll ruin me far quicker.’ He offered a price that was a few coppers less per barrel than what Roo had paid in Ravensburg. Then they began haggling in earnest.

They were waiting for Roo when he came out of the third inn an hour after midday. His first two negotiations had proven profitable, earning him more than he had anticipated. He had gotten about 10 percent higher a price from Alistair Rivers than he had hoped for, which had made him bargain harder at the Inn of Many Stars. His final price had been within coppers of what he had sold wine to Alistair for, so he knew what he was likely to get at the Dog and Fox Tavern. He had concluded his negotiations in quick order, and as he came out of the Dog and Fox he said, ‘Duncan! We need to unload five barrels!’

Then he halted. Duncan moved his head slightly to indicate the man sitting close to him on the wagon, who had a dagger point in Duncan’s ribs, though you had to look to notice it. To passersby it appeared he was merely having a quiet conversation with the driver of the wagon.

Another man stepped up and said, ‘You the owner of these wagons?’

Roo nodded once as he studied the man. He was rangy to the point of gauntness, but there was quickness and danger in his movements. Roo saw no weapons in the man’s hands, but guessed there was more than one of them secreted on him, within easy reach. His narrow face was covered by a two- or three-day growth of beard, and grey-shot, raggedly cut black hair hung loosely about his forehead and neck.

‘We was noticing you driving around and making deliveries. Wondered if you were new to Krondor?’

Roo glanced from the man’s face to the man next to Duncan, then looked around to see if the two were alone. A couple of others lingered in close proximity to the wagons, men who could aid their companions in moments, without calling attention to themselves until needed. Roo said, ‘Been here before, but just rolled into the city this morning.’

‘Ah!’ said the man, his voice surprisingly deep for one so thin. ‘Well then, you’d not be knowing about the local licenses and duties, would you?’

Roo’s gaze narrowed. ‘We declared our cargo at the gate to the Prince’s magistrate, and nothing was said about licenses and duties.’

‘Well, these aren’t the Prince’s licenses and duties, in a manner of speaking.’ The man lowered his voice so he would not be overheard. ‘There are ways to do business in the city and there are other ways, if you catch my drift. We represent interests that would seek to keep you from encountering difficulties in Krondor, if you follow me.’

Roo leaned against the back of the wagon, attempting to look casual, while judging how fast he could kill this man if needs be and what chance Duncan stood of disarming the man who held a dagger on him. Of the first he was confident; he could kill this man before his companions could take two steps in his aid, but Duncan didn’t have Roo’s combat training, and while a competent swordsman, he would probably die. Roo said, ‘I’m very stupid today. Pretend I don’t know anything and educate me.’

The man said, ‘Well, there are those of us in Krondor who like to make sure the daily commerce of the city goes undisturbed, if you see what I mean. We don’t care much for unseemly price wars and large fluctuations between supply and demand. Toward that end, we make sure that everything coming into the city has a reasonable profit, so that no one has too much an advantage, don’t you see? Keeps things civilized. We also keep thugs from roughing up merchants and destroying property, as well as make sure that a man can sleep in his bed at night without fear of having his throat cut, don’t you see? Now, to that end, we expect a compensation for our work.’

Roo said, ‘I see. How much?’

‘For your cargo, it would be twenty golden sovereigns’ – Roo’s eyes widened – ‘for each wagon.’

That was easily close to one half his expected profit on this cargo alone. His outrage couldn’t be kept below the surface. ‘Are you mad? Twenty sovereigns!’ He took a quick step back and said, ‘I think not!’

The man took a step after Roo, which he had anticipated, saying, ‘If you want your friend there to stay health –’

Suddenly Roo had his sword out and at the man’s throat before he could move away. The man was quick and tried to move back, but Roo followed, keeping the point of his sword touching skin. ‘Ah, ah!’ said Roo. ‘Don’t move too quickly; I might slip and then you’d get blood over everything. If your friend doesn’t get his dagger out of my cousin’s ribs or if either one of those two men across the street makes the wrong move, you’re sucking wind through a new hole.’

‘Hold on!’ shouted the man. Then, glancing sideways without moving his head, he shouted, ‘Bert! Get down!’

The man next to Duncan got down without question, while the man whom Roo held at sword’s point said, ‘You’re making a big mistake.’

‘If I am, it’s not the first,’ said Roo.

‘Cross the Sagacious Man and it’s the last,’ said the would-be extortionist.

‘Sagacious Man?’ said Roo. ‘Who would that be?’

‘Someone important in this city,’ answered the thin man. ‘We’ll mark this a misunderstanding, and you ask about. But when we come back tomorrow, I’ll expect better manners from you.’

He motioned for his two distant companions to leave and they quickly darted into the midday crush of people. Other pedestrians had stopped to watch the display of one man holding another at sword’s point, and it was obvious the thin man didn’t care for the scrutiny. A merchant looked out from his shop and started shouting for a city constable.

Glancing at Roo the man said, ‘If I’m handed over to the City Watch, you’re in even bigger trouble than you might be already.’ He licked his lips nervously. A shrill whistle sounded a block away, and Roo dropped his sword’s point and the man ducked away, vanishing into the crowd.

‘What was that?’ asked Duncan.

‘Shakedown.’

Duncan said, ‘Mockers.’

‘Mockers?’

‘Guild of Thieves,’ supplied Duncan as he patted his ribs to make sure they were still intact.

‘I expect. He mentioned someone named the Sagacious Man.’

‘That’s the Mockers, without a doubt. You can’t do business in a city like Krondor without having to pay off someone.’

Roo climbed aboard his own wagon and said, ‘Damn me if I will.’

If Duncan had an answer, Roo didn’t hear it as he untied the rope holding down the barrels and lowered the drop gate. A shout and men running down the street caused Roo to glance past the wagon to where members of the City Watch, wearing blue tunics and carrying large billy clubs, paused to see the merchant pointing at Roo.

Roo swore under his breath. The constable approached and said, ‘That gentleman tells me you was dueling in the street.’

Roo tossed a rope to Duncan. ‘Dueling? Me? Sorry, but he’s mistaken. I’m just unloading wine for this inn.’ He turned his chin toward the inn, as Duncan came down to help get the barrels off the top of the wagon.

‘Well then,’ said the constable, obviously unwilling to go searching for trouble when it was so abundant in Krondor, ‘just see it stays that way.’ He motioned for his partner and they returned the way they came.

Duncan said, ‘Some things never change. Unless I miss my bet, those two will be back in whatever pastry shop they were in when the whistle blew.’

Roo laughed. They lowered the five barrels to the street, and Roo convinced the innkeeper to send a worker to help Duncan carry them inside, so Roo could protect the wagons while the wine was delivered. After the remaining cargo was secured, they took reins and moved on to the next tavern.

At sundown, they had sold close to a third of the wine Roo had purchased in Ravensburg. More, they had recouped almost all the gold Roo had spent. Roo calculated that he stood to triple his money if business the next day or so was as brisk as it had been so far.

‘Where do we spend the night?’ asked Duncan. ‘And when do we eat? I’m starving.’

Roo said, ‘Let us find an inn with a good-sized yard so we can guard this wine against our friends.’

Duncan nodded, knowing full well whom Roo meant. They were in an area of the city unknown to Duncan, who had been to Krondor a number of times over the years, and from the wares displayed in the shop windows as they passed, not a terribly prosperous one. Roo said, ‘Let’s go around the block and head back the way we came. I think we’re leaving prosperity behind if we continue on this way.’

Duncan nodded and watched as Roo headed his team out into the traffic of the road. The street was full of travelers as those finished with the day’s work headed home, or to a local tavern or shop. Some shops were being shuttered, while others were lighting lanterns, indicating their proprietors were staying open past dark for those customers who could only shop in the evening.

They moved slowly through the press and Roo turned right into another street, and Duncan followed. It took them almost an hour to find an inn with a stable area big enough to accommodate their wagons behind locked gates. Roo made arrangements with the stableboy, took his sample cask, and led Duncan inside.

The inn was known as the Seven Flowers, and it was a modest establishment, catering to merchants and workers equally. Roo found a table near the bar and indicated Duncan should take a seat. He spied an interesting-looking barmaid, a little long in the face but with an ample spread of bosom and hip, and he said, ‘When you have a minute, if you’d bring us both a tankard of ale and dinner.’ He indicated the table where Duncan sat. The woman looked at the handsome Duncan and her smile betrayed her interest. Roo found his eyes fixed upon the woman’s bosom where it strained against the fabric of her dress and said, ‘And if you’re free at the end of the evening, join us.’ He tried his best to look charming, and the remark got him a neutral expression and a noncommittal noise. ‘Where’s the owner?’ asked Roo.

She indicated a heavyset man at the far end of the bar, and Roo made his way through a half-dozen customers and started his pitch. After providing samples of his wine and arguing price, Roo arrived at a price with the owner of the inn, including a night’s lodging and food, and returned to the table.

The food was average but ample and after weeks on the trail tasted wonderful. The ale was also average, but cold and plentiful. After the meal, when business had thinned, Duncan started working his charms on the serving girl, a woman of middle years named Jean. Another barmaid, a thin young woman named Betsy, joined them and somehow ended up sitting in Roo’s lap. Either Duncan was terribly funny in his storytelling or the ale gave everyone a more forgiving sense of humor. A couple of times the innkeeper had had to come over and order his barmaids back to work, but as the evening wore on, the two women had found their way back to Roo and Duncan’s company.

The pairing was obvious: Duncan had captured the attention of both women, but Jean, the more attractive of the two, had staked her claim early on, while Betsy was content to spend her time with Roo’s hand fondling her. Roo didn’t know if the girl really liked him or expected recompense, but he didn’t care. The soft heat of flesh under cloth had him aroused, and after a while he said, ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

The girl said nothing but rose and took his hand and led him upstairs. In his drunken state he didn’t remember hearing Duncan and Jean entering the room with them, but soon he was lost in the feel, smell, taste, and heat of being with a woman.

He was vaguely aware of Duncan and Jean on the pallet next to the one he shared with Betsy, but he ignored them. He had been with whores in camp less than a hand’s breadth from other soldiers, so he thought nothing of it.

He got out of his clothing and got Betsy out of hers in quick order, and was lost in passion when a shout came from outside followed by the sound of cracking wood. He almost didn’t notice it at first, but another crack followed, and suddenly, before thought was his, he was on his feet, pulling his sword from the scabbard, yelling, ‘Duncan!’

Naked, Roo raced down the stairs and into the common room. Deserted and dark, the room was an obstacle course as Roo tried to get to the inn’s courtyard door without laming himself on a chair or table. Duncan’s oaths from behind told Roo he wasn’t alone in his drunken difficulties.

Roo found the door, pulled it open, and hurried toward the stable where his horses were being cared for and his wagons were housed. His feet encountered wetness as his nose greeted him with a familiar aroma: wine.

He entered the dark barn cautiously, his intoxication gone with the rush of battle readiness. Duncan overtook him and Roo gripped his cousin by the arm, signaling in the dark to move to the side of the barn aisle. Something was wrong and Roo couldn’t put his finger on what that was until he saw the first horse. The animal lay on the ground, blood pooling from its neck. Quickly he took an inventory and found all four of his horses had been killed, their necks cut in exactly the right place to bleed them as fast as possible.

‘Oh, damn!’ said Duncan, and Roo hurried to find the stableboy lying in his own blood.

They dashed to the wagons and found that every barrel had been stove in or had the bung pulled, so that wine flooded the courtyard. The cracking of wood that Roo had heard had been someone using a large hammer on the spokes of the wheels, so that the wagons were now useless without expensive repair.

The innkeeper came hurrying across the courtyard when he saw the two naked men holding their swords.

‘What’s afoot?’ he asked, halting, as if afraid to approach these two strange apparitions any more closely. From his nightshirt it was clear he had turned in.

‘Someone’s killed your stableboy and my horses, and ruined my wagons and cargo,’ said Roo.

Abruptly a scream cut the night and Roo was running past the innkeeper before Duncan could react. Roo almost flew through the door to the inn, banging against a table, and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the room he and Duncan shared and took a half-step in, his sword leveled.

He faltered as Duncan came running up the stairs. Duncan looked over the shoulder of his shorter cousin and again he said, ‘Damn.’

Jean and Betsy lay upon the two pallets, their vacant gaze telling both men they were dead before the men could see the dark spreading stains flowing from where their throats had been cut. Whoever had come through the window had taken the two women from behind, killing them quickly and pulling them back on the mats. Roo was suddenly aware he was standing in something sticky and warm and realized the women had probably come to the door after the men had raced out, only to die before they realized someone had entered the room from the window.

Then Roo realized his clothing was strewn around the room. He quickly searched, and as the innkeeper arrived, Roo looked at Duncan and said, ‘They took the gold.’

Duncan seemed almost to go limp as he leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Damn,’ he said for a third time.

The constable of the City Watch was obviously anxious to be done with his investigation. He looked at the dead horses and the dead stableboy, and went into the inn to inspect the dead barmaids, and then asked Roo and Duncan a few questions. It was also obvious that he knew the Mockers were involved and this would be reported in as an ‘unsolved crime.’ Unless someone was caught in the act, finding criminals and proving guilt was a rare event in a city the size of the capital of the Western Realm. As the constable left he instructed them to report anything they discovered that might help solve the crime to the office of the City Watch, at the palace.

The innkeeper was devastated by the death of his three employees and voiced his fear that he was somehow slated to join them. He ordered Roo and Duncan out of his inn at first light and then barricaded himself in his room.

As the dawn came, Roo and Duncan walked out of the courtyard of the Inn of the Seven Flowers. The early morning press of business hadn’t begun, but already workers were moving toward their places of employment. As they entered the street, Duncan asked, ‘What now?’

Roo said, ‘I don’t know –’ He inhaled as he spied a familiar figure across the street. Lounging against the wall of the building opposite them was the thin man from the day before. Roo crossed the street, almost knocking down a hurrying workman, and as he reached the man, he heard him say, ‘Quietly now, stranger, else my friends will have to shoot you.’

Duncan overtook Roo in time to hear the remark and spun around, looking for the bowman. On the rooftop above, a bowman had an arrow drawn hard against his cheek, aimed in their direction. The thin man said, ‘I expect you now understand just the sort of troubles we can protect you from, don’t you?’

‘If I thought I stood a chance of not getting my cousin shot in the bargain,’ said Roo, his anger barely held in check, ‘I’d cut your liver out right now.’

‘Like to see you try,’ said the thin man. ‘You caught me by surprise yesterday, but it would never happen again.’ He then smiled, and there was nothing friendly in the expression. ‘Besides, there’s nothing personal in this, lad. It’s only business. Next time you seek to do business in Krondor, let those who can help you … help you.’

‘Why did you kill the boy and the girls?’ asked Roo.

‘Kill? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the man. ‘Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that Sam Tannerson was playing pokiir at Mama Jamila’s in the Poor Quarter all night long. Did someone go and get themselves killed?’ He made a signal and moved away, saying, ‘When you’re ready to try doing business again, ask around. Sam Tannerson isn’t hard to find. And he’s always willing to help.’ He quickly moved off into the press of traffic and vanished from sight.

After a moment Roo asked again, ‘Why did they kill the girls and the stableboy?’

Duncan said, ‘My guess is that if you’re too stubborn to pay them, they’re making sure everyone else knows the price of doing business with you.’

Roo said, ‘I’ve only felt more helpless once in my life, and that was when they were about to hang me.’

Duncan had heard the story of how Roo and his friend Erik had been reprieved from the gallows after a mock hanging. ‘Well, you may not be dead, as they say, but what will we do?’

Roo said, ‘Start over. What else is there to do?’ Then he added, ‘But first we head for the palace, and the office of the City Watch.’

‘What for?’

‘To tell them we know the name of the man who was behind this, Sam Tannerson.’

‘Do you think that’s his real name?’

‘Probably not,’ said Roo as he turned in the direction of the palace. ‘But it’s the one he uses, and it will do.’

Duncan shrugged. ‘I don’t know what good it’ll do, but as I have no better idea, why not?’ He fell in beside his cousin and they began walking toward the Prince of Krondor’s palace.

Erik looked out over the yard where the levies hurried through their drills. He remembered with some guilty pleasure the near fit Alfred, the corporal from Darkmoor, had thrown when informed he was now reduced to the rank of private in the Prince’s new army. The third time Erik had deposited him on his ear on the parade ground had convinced him to shut up and do as he was told. Erik suspected he would turn out to be a better than average soldier if he could learn to control his temper.

‘What do you think?’ asked Robert de Loungville from behind.

Without turning to look, Erik said, ‘I’d know better what to think if I knew what exactly you, the Duke, the Prince, and everyone else you meet with every night have in mind.’

‘You’ve been down there. You know what’s coming,’ said de Loungville without emotion.

‘I think we’ve got a few men here who might do well enough,’ answered Erik. ‘These are all seasoned soldiers, but some of them are worthless.’

‘Why?’ asked Robert.

Erik turned and looked at the man to whom he reported. ‘Some of them are barracks rats, fit for nothing much more than light garrison duty and three meals a day. I guess their lords decided it was cheaper to let us feed them. Others are too …’ He struggled for a concept. ‘I don’t know, it’s like a horse that’s been trained to do one thing, then you want to train him to do another. You’ve first got to break him of the old habits.’